Dealing With So Much More
by Kuryo
Summary: After Sherlock's death, John had a hard time dealing with the hope of Sherlock coming home. He begins to find comfort in Molly's company, which turns into something slightly more than intended. Sherlock must find way to get back what he loves most.
1. Chapter 1

**Dealing With So Much More**

**A/N: **I hope this turns out well! I'm not sure it will be as enjoyable as some of my stories from long ago, but I really do hope this is satisfying. This is a Post-Reichenbach story with a tad bit of John/Molly throughout the first 2, maybe 3, chapters before Sherlock comes into the picture. Although for now, Sherlock's actions remain a mystery. ;) Hope you enjoy!

- Coffee

John slumped forward, leaning on his elbow as he tapped his finger against the warm coffee mug that sat in front of him. This had become a normal occurrence. John would make a nice cuppa and then upon sitting at the table or his chair, he would lose touch with reality and forget it was there. He would sit there at the table staring into space for hours on end before Mrs. Hudson would come up to check on him and snap him from his long daze.

Mrs. Hudson came trotting up the stairs. "John! John, are you here?" She called as she rounded the corner then stopped at the threshold of the kitchen. "Oh dear… Do tell me you weren't staring off into space again. You've gone through a whole jar of coffee without drinking a drop!" she clicked her tongue before picking up the now cold mug and bringing it over towards the sink.

John leaned back then blinked. "I'm sorry? I only just put that…" John trailed off as he looked at the time on his watch. "Oh. I must have. Sorry Mrs. Hudson." Standing up, the small man pushed in his chair and wobbled into the living area. His limp had come back since… the accident. He couldn't ever call it for what it was. A… _suicide._ The death of Sherlock Holmes. It had broken John. Life was so much duller without Sherlock. As if all the excitement had been sucked up and thrown away somewhere that John would never be able to reach. It was locked away and Sherlock Holmes was the only one who had the key.

Picking up the paper, John looked at the front headlines. It was already 3 years. It had been 3 years since Sherlock had fallen from St. Bart's Hospital. It had been so long and he was beginning to lose hope that Sherlock would ever come home. During this time, he believed. He truly did believe that Sherlock would waltz into 221B with that quirky half-smile of his and call out to John, "I am home!" He truly did believe that Sherlock had just faked it. That he was out finishing a case like the Sherlock he knew and would walk through that door at any moment. But his wish never had come true. John told himself that he needed to accept the truth. Sherlock was never coming back. That door would never open to the sight of bright blue eyes and curly black hair.

At the thought of Sherlock, tears rolled down John's cheeks. He gripped tightly onto the side of the end table that the paper sat on. Little dark grey spots showed up against the light grey paper. He could hear Mrs. Hudson walk in. He felt her hand on his back as she rubbed it back and forth soothingly. She didn't understand. No one did. When Sherlock fell from that building, he took John's heart with him. When Sherlock shattered, so did his heart. It was the worst feeling anyone could ever have. His heart was ripped from his chest and he felt numb. He couldn't breathe either. He was struggling to reach the surface of the sea of depression that Sherlock's death had given him. It was as if he couldn't swim. Or the top would never come. He was drowning and it was such a smothering feeling. John trembled before letting out a silent sob, bringing one of his hands off of the end table to cover his mouth and nose. He couldn't bear it.

Sherlock had been worth so much to John. _He just couldn't bear it._

xoxoxox

Sherlock straightened out his scarf before letting out a huff of breath. Staring into the mirror, he realized all of the changes he had gone through. His hair had become exceptionally longer, despite the constant care he gave it. He was visibly much paler and his eyes had lost a lot of the vibrant color they once held.

His eyes never looked as bright and caring as they did when he was with John.

'No. Sherlock, you must not think that way. John is much safer as long as you stay away a while longer. Just for a little while longer.' Sherlock thought to himself. He took a deep breath to compose himself. He did not want to end up crying in front of the client he was working with this evening. Well… not that he ever cried before, obviously.

A knock on the door startled Sherlock out of his thinking state. It was time to get to work.

xoxoxox

John closed the door of 221B before briskly setting off down the stairs onto the sidewalk. He blended in rather easily with the crowd that he managed to be behind. He wasn't exactly sure where he was to go. He had a day off from the clinic as Sarah believed he needed the rest, although she knew very well that John would not be able to stay put after what happened. John wandered aimlessly through the streets of London before he found himself at St. Bart's once more. He seemed to have a habit of ending up there whenever he had no set destination or place to be.

John looked up and stared at the defined outline of the hospital, at the edge of the roof. He could see Sherlock standing there once more. The ghost of Sherlock tipped, tipped then fell… John staggered backwards a bit before harshly blinking and the apparition disappeared. He still wasn't used to seeing memories of Sherlock fiercely combining with reality. It gave John a rather large headache later on though, as he began to think about it all too hard.

John quickly collected himself before he staggered forwards in the direction of the hospital. He needed to talk to someone and if that were to be anyone, it had to be Molly. She was the only one that he could... well, trust. They shared the same affection towards Sherlock.

xoxoxox

John didn't know what exactly to say and Molly treaded uncomfortably around the morgue as she hesitantly spoke kind words and opinions of the dead. "Like many others, I uh- I knew this man," Molly began. It must have been a hard job, working at the morgue. She seemed to know everyone that came in. For any regular person, it would have hurt to see even one person they cared about dead. Molly really was a strong woman. "He was very kind. He uh… Well, he cheered me up when Sherlock, y'know…" Molly trailed off from that point. She had to think for a moment before something came to her mind and made her snap into line. "I-I mean not that visiting you didn't cheer me up!"

John smiled as he strode over and placed a hand onto the smaller girl's shoulder. "Thank you, Molly. You really helped me through a lot." He noticed that she was becoming very red in the cheeks.

"O-Oh, you know," She started with a playful tone to her voice. "You looked like you needed a friend." She lightly patted her hand against his shoulder as well, staring at his eyes. For some reason there was something about his eyes, something that drew her in. It was much different than Sherlock. While Sherlock's eyes were much more vivid in colour, John's were much more intense and defined by the emotion they held. Sherlock's were bright with colour. John's were beaming with human emotion. Something that Sherlock seemed to lack without John.

And at that very moment, something in the two persons just… _clicked._ They leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. It was a light one, but they leaned into each other where their lips gently touched. The kiss only lasted a moment, but seemed to feel like a near lifetime. They slowly pulled back, dazed a bit before both snapping into reality. They both stumbled back, embarrassment pretty much written all over their faces. There was an abnormally long silence before John broke the tension. He cleared his throat then jabbed his thumb in the direction of the exit. "Ah… hm. Well, I- Thank you for talking with me. I should get going." He spoke rather quickly.

Molly opened her mouth to say something, but closed it with a smile and nodded. She pointed at the body next to her a few times, rather indecisively as she muttered a small, "Yeah" under her breath. "I better get back to…" John quickly nodded, understanding what she meant. "I-I'll see you… later, maybe?" She gave a quirky grin as she played with the end of her hair that was slung over her shoulder in a rather messy ponytail.

John smiled back, giving a nod of approval. "Yeah… Yeah! Sure. I'm free any time, just give me a ring if you want to get a coffee or something nice." He waved Molly a farewell for the time being before strolling through the double doors into the long hallway. He thought back on their actions. It had been 3 years since the man had smiled sincerely, even longer since he had been somewhat intimate with another. One thing stood out to him as well, Molly tasted of strawberry. Well, her lipstick did. He rather enjoyed that.

xoxoxox

Sherlock pressed his face into the palms of his hands. He was rather frustrated. Mycroft had recently come by to give Sherlock some… unsatisfying new about John. Mycroft and his unfortunate surveillance abilities had caught Molly and John doing that thing that regular people do. What was it that they did again?

Ah. That's right. They _kissed. _In the morgue. Molly was stealing his John! She was taking John from him! Sherlock shoved everything off of an end table – lamp included – in a fit of rage and picked up his revolver, firing at the innocent wall. With every gun shot, an obscene word emitted from Sherlock's mouth. Mycroft closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while his brother let his anger out in the form of a word and a bullet.

"Surely brother, this is not a bad thing." Mycroft spoke gently to Sherlock. The younger brother stomped over the table and into the open kitchen. "Doctor Watson has not been with a significant other for over 3 years. Shouldn't you be happy that he has found someone to love?" Mycroft simply couldn't understand his brother's lack in happiness for his friend. And yes, this was even for Sherlock.

"It doesn't matter!" Sherlock shouted at Mycroft. "He is **my** John, Mycroft! Mine! No one else's! I have sworn to myself, I will destroy _anything_ that attempted to take him from me!" Mycroft simply sighed at his younger brother's behaviour. Sherlock slammed his hand down against the countertop and looked back. "_Get out._" His voice was fierce and rather cold. Mycroft was a bit surprised. Sherlock hadn't sounded that cold since before meeting John Watson. Interesting…

"If you don't like this arrangement, then take care of it yourself, just don't do anything rash that would risk your exposure." Mycroft picked up his umbrella. "I don't feel like going through the trouble of creating a whole new death for you that is even more realistic than the last one." And with that, Mycroft shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Short chapter, I know. I'm just awfully tired and I wanted to get this in before the beginning of next week. I'm trying to get in at least a little something every two days if possible. I devote most of my free time to this, but you know. I get distracted way too easily. Maybe if I didn't spend 4+ hours screwing around on Tumblr while listening to music on Pandora, I could have gotten a bit more in. xD Shoot me now, wouldn't blame you if you did. But anyway, here's your little filler chapter.

It had been a couple weeks since John and Molly had gotten together. They spent most of their time going out on small dates before and after work. They would get coffee, or a slice of pie. Maybe stroll throughout London, just generally having a nice time. Soon it evolved into Molly spending nights at 221B with John.

This was one of those nights.

John and Molly both sat close to each other on the sofa as they watched late night telly. She leaned against John, her knees loosely tucked into her chest as she was covered by a light blanket. She held a small cup of tea in her hands, smiling softly. John sat normally, leaned over onto his elbow, yet tilting his head overtop of Molly's. At random intervals, she would pick little things that she heard from the show and then give her insight on the topic. They were rather funny at times.

"Oh, yeah?" John looked down at Molly with a curious smile. She let out a small giggle.

"Visiting America was a rather interesting experience. It was a short trip, but I had a lot of fun." Molly took a sip of the tea she was holding. "Maybe one day I will go back. I'll take lots of pictures. How about you? Other than Afghanistan, have you been to any other countries?"

John thought for a moment. Had he? "Not that I can remember. I might have as a child though." Other than Afghanistan… He really should visit some newer countries.

"I see. Well you should visit some. It's a very nice experience." Molly paused and John was about to ask why before she cut him off in a panicked state. "I-I mean, not that you have to!" 

"Molly, I-" John was once more cut off from his futile attempts of catching the woman's attention.

"It's just…. It's just that, visiting other countries is a lot of fun!"

"Molly-" 

"A-And you know, since Afghanistan isn't the exact most beautiful…"

"_Molly!_" John pressed on with a near shout. "Molly, I would love to. Maybe sometime in the near future, we could visit a country together." His voice was much softer; to calm her from the fright she got from John's shout. Molly simply nodded and nestled her face gently into John's neck. "That would be nice." She said.

xoxoxox

John stretched his body then replaced his arm over Molly's sleeping boy. It was different. He was used to having Sherlock there… Molly was a much smaller frame. He wouldn't lie though; it was more comfortable with Molly than it was with Sherlock. Although he did adore Sherlock's constant snuggling. It was rather… adorable and well, a bit attractive. '_Wait… What am I thinking? John you are __**straight**__.'_

Molly stirred before cracking an eye open. She pulled herself closer to John then sighed contently. "I have work today." She muttered rather sadly. John didn't feel too upset about it, but he masked that and showed a bit of sadness as well.

"I do as well." They both lied still for a little while before fully waking up. They stood from the bed with their morning stretches then began their days. Not too long after dressing, they were sitting in the kitchen enjoying a nice cup of coffee before Mrs. Hudson swiftly entered with a plate of biscuits in hand. "Hello dear. It's very nice to see you drinking that coffee for once." She chirped while placing the biscuits down onto the table.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." John flashed a momentarily smile before leaning off of the counter and placing the mug into the sink. He took a quick glance at the time then nodded to the landlady before Molly and he left for their jobs.

xoxoxox

Sherlock sat on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows against his knees and his hands clasped together in a praying sort of gesture. His eyes were closed as he thought to himself quietly. It was every so often that he would order an invisible figment before cracking an eye open and realizing that it was just him in the large house.

And that was just it. It was only _him._ John was no longer there to grab his laptop or text someone immediately for him. John was no longer there to pester him about cleaning up or yelling at him for using his laptop. John was no longer there to tell him when things he did were a 'bit not good' and he was not there to follow him onto cases like he was used to.

After all of this time, Sherlock had never once gotten used to the feeling of not having John around to watch him. Frowning, the man turned his head to the French doors leading to the patio in the backyard. The large house… it reminded him of the home from the Baskervilles case. Sherlock let out a small chuckle at the thought of John's experience with the midnight Morse code. Yes, John had indeed told Sherlock of that situation. But the feeling of John not sharing rather humorous experiences with him… it only made the separation feel worse.

Sherlock had done a lot during the 3 years of being away from Doctor John Watson. He had taken out all of the ties to Moriarty in 2 years, but allowed himself a little down time for about a year. Sherlock most definitely felt it was time to reveal himself to John, but what worried him most was how John would take it. He did in fact expect John to result in violence, at least a little bit. And believe it or not, Sherlock accepted that fact. If John needed to throw a punch or two to release his anger, then so be it. He would absolutely understand and allow it to happen for the sake of John.

Then again, Sherlock also took into consideration of the theory that John may believe his mind was playing tricks on him. Even if Sherlock were to prove through sheer touch and other senses alone, the simple mind would easily create such an ideal situation to allow John to grasp onto the reality and thought that the Sherlock that was so clearly standing in front of him was simply an illusion.

Sherlock sighed, once again frustrated. He seemed to be getting more and more agitated with the thought of John shunning him away like such. It was a cold feeling. Surely this was what John must have felt when Sherlock had left him. He longed to reveal himself to John. To stand on 221B with a bright, natural smile – for once – then knock on that door surprising John. Although first, he needed a way to get rid of Molly. Not completely, though. Just to have John put her to the side.

Sherlock gave a simple smirk of good intentioned evil.

xoxoxox

John tapped his pen against the desk he sat at, his mind drifted off elsewhere. Despite having Molly as a first priority, John's thoughts always circled around Sherlock. God he was such a bloody idiot. Why couldn't he just have let John help! John knew Sherlock better than that! He wouldn't be a fake. He was the only one… the **only** one who would be able to do that. John never doubted him once. Not once. Nor did Molly or Mycroft.

And believe it or not, John remembered when Moriarty first made his appearance. When there was an explosion near the flat. Dear god did he remember that. John remembered walking in and Sherlock asking how it was sleeping on the lilo. Then he remembered Mycroft correcting him and saying Sofa, which was exactly right! But the thing is about this, Mycroft only corrected him about the sofa. Sherlock _knew_. He simply got one small detail wrong.

And that was just it. Sherlock always _knew._ Every time! He, without fail, always knew exactly what John had been doing. Just as for Afghanistan. On the day that John had met with Mike Stamford, he hadn't been in contact for a long while. Mike initially thought he was still in Afghanistan. It was only after they had talked a little, that Mike had introduced him to Sherlock. If Sherlock were truly just a normal person and made everything up, he wouldn't have had the time to research every little thing about John, especially about Harry. It was impossible! Mike even admitted to not saying anything to Sherlock.

And thus left that gap where he knew Sherlock had made his very first mistake. John's eyes snapped open in realization. Sherlock tried lying about his life, why? Was he trying to throw John off of the trail of something? Surely that had to be it! He had no doubts that Sherlock had been pulling one of _those_ stunts again. It wasn't all too often that Sherlock had done that, but he had in fact at times done things without John knowing until after they were done. Perhaps this was one of those things that Sherlock believed John wouldn't be a good enough help to do.

John grabbed a nearby notepad as he began to jot down his suspicions. This was clearly going to take more thought that just what he had done, but thankfully enough, John had lived with Sherlock enough for Sherlock's mind to rub off on him a bit. It just took a bit of hard-earned thinking and piecing the little facts together. He'd have to look into this a bit more. He was confident that he could piece together the answer. Somehow…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Oh my god I finally updated wat. I've been constantly working on this chapter bit by bit, but I'm glad I got it finished. Had it stuck at one spot for the longest time. There's a bit more Sherlock than I intended here, but I'm okay with it. Hope it's a good chapter as I didn't run it through CSB before posting it. ;D I have to plan out the rest of chapter 4, but it might be held off for a while so I can finish a school project. Here you go guys!

"You're lying." Sherlock hissed darkly from between his teeth. He sat placidly on the armchair, his body stiff from the new emotions inside his body that were churning to create something larger and much more dangerous.

"I could be, but we both know the truth in our stories." Mycroft countered rather calmly. After all, he had been dealing with an angry Sherlock a lot as of late. Nothing new even now. Mycroft shifted in his seat once. He had been filling in Sherlock all of the details of John's daily life and it seemed Sherlock didn't take a particular liking to this one. When Sherlock said nothing back, he shifted once more although this time a bit uncomfortably. Not from the lack of conversation in general, oh no. He was well used to quietness for a long period of time with Sherlock. It was specifically the lack of conversation on the topic of John Watson. Sherlock was constantly asking about John and watching out for his wellbeing. Perhaps Sherlock was in his mind palace?

In fact, that was completely wrong. Sherlock was very much aware of the commotion happening before his eyes. He was very much aware that his lack of speech made Mycroft rather uncomfortable for once. That was exactly as he intended. He wanted Mycroft to leave him be and not out of anger, but out of concern. Sherlock was feeling… _things_ well up inside him. His emotions tossed and turned violently like a nightmare storm forming in the depths of his chest. The thunder booming inside his head, the lightening striking him in the heart and the rain pouring from his eyes. It was a feeling that Sherlock did not understand. It was something that he believed himself to be incapable of. He rather feared it actually.

_Human feelings._

"Mycroft, I don't understand!" Sherlock wailed as he jumped from his seat. "Why does it _hurt_ so much!" It had been so very long since Sherlock had dealt with emotions as strong as these. John somehow knew how to make Sherlock hurt in all the weirdest places. He slipped his way into Sherlock's mind, taking the key and creating something so devastating in the depths of his heart where he was so sure he had locked away. John Watson achieved something that even the Holmes brother's parents could not achieve.

Mycroft stood and – surprisingly – placed down his umbrella to embrace his broken younger brother. Surely Sherlock would end up making him regret this later, but he expected no less. Sherlock lay somewhat limp in his arms, all signs of previous struggle now disappeared as he soaked in the data of the new feelings he was experiencing. "Calm down Sherlock, you're simply heartbroken."

xoxoxox

Sherlock had gone through many stages of denial of the situation. Mycroft had come in telling him of Molly's recent 'nights' at 221B with John and it made Sherlock feel rather… sick. He wanted nothing more than to be the one in John's room, in John's bed, in John's _arms._ Sherlock hopped from his seat, grabbing his coat off of the coat rack and never stopping as he made a dash for the door. He needed some fresh air, maybe a bit of closer contact with John than he had originally planned.

Sherlock sat in the booth of a small café he found. Obviously, he wasn't there to order any food, but he did in fact order a coffee, black with two sugars. A little something from home that would comfort him. It reminded him of Molly, but then again it also reminded him of John. Molly never made the coffee as well as John did. When the coffee arrived, Sherlock sat there, looking down into the brown liquid. It shone in the sunlight as he sat by a window. Sherlock gently ran a finger along the rim of the white mug. He needed a battle strategy. Maybe sending John little anonymous letters? Maybe a bouquet of flowers even? No… that seemed too cheesy. Not something Sherlock would do and not something John would like. John may like the sappy lovey-dovey things, but he wasn't _that_ sappy.

Sherlock needed something… spontaneous. He needed something that would catch John's interest enough to drag him away from Molly, even if it meant for a moment. That way he could draw lines from there and give John something even more eye catching and interesting. He wanted to do big, but not too big. Random, but not too random. A difficult task that Sherlock set himself to do.

John; tough army doctor; soft heart. Molly; timid girl; obviously could be scared; not scared by everything, unfortunately. Sherlock drummed his fingers against the table. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice the small ding from the café's door slightly opening. John stepped back, a smile on his face as Molly passed by. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress and a white sweater over top of it. Her hair was let loose with a small headband. That day happened to be particularly warm and dry, it was no wonder she wore such a bright outfit. She stepped in with a small hop to her step and seated their selves right away. The moment John began to speak, Sherlock snapped back to reality.

His gaze shifted from the corner of his eye. John was staring at him. Squinting more like it. Bags under his eyes; hasn't slept; 2 days? No, 3 days. Disheveled hair; woke late. Tense; Molly was keen on taking him out; explains messy appearance; no time. Spark in eye; thinking; obviously wants to believe Sherlock was there; look of confusion; unsure of his deduction.

Sherlock downed the mug of coffee before slapping down whatever amount the drink cost before standing. He adjusted the collar of his jacket, pulling it up. His fingers stayed at the collar though, seemingly glued there by an invisible force. John once told him to not do that, to stop trying to make himself look 'cool and mysterious'. A small smirk cracked before it was quickly brushed away with the attempt of not being discovered completely. Sherlock realized that the time away from John had made him very… lackluster, in a sense. He was also completely mad for doing something so rash. Finally letting go of the collar, he swiftly began to walk towards the door. His fingers spread as he pressed his palm against the glass, pushing the door open and disappearing around the corner.

xoxoxox

"John?" Molly tilted her head. She brushed her fingers against John's arm. "Are you alright?" She was discussing a few things with him before he suddenly trailed off and went silent. Molly looked towards the direction he was staring in, but she didn't see anything in particular that stood out. To her, anyways.

John shook his head, turning his attention back to Molly with a small comforting smile. "No, I'm fine. Something just caught my attention for a moment. Thought I saw someone I knew." He shook his head, "My eyes must be playing tricks on me, I guess."

"It's alright." Molly gripped onto his hand lightly. "As I was saying, maybe it would be good to box some of the books and papers Sherlock left in the flat. It would clear some space and would make it a bit less stuffy." It was hard to admit it to John, who seemed to break a little at the suggestion, but it had to be done. The flat was getting rather hard to sit in. She could also tell that John was having a hard time sleeping, which was most likely the result of him still trying to find a way to cope with the loss. Sherlock was such a big influence in his life and there were too many reminders in the flat. "Scratch that, actually. I won't put more strain on you. How about you stay at my flat? Get you away from Baker Street for a little. It might help you."

John had to think about this for a moment. Stay at Molly's flat? He had been there quite a few times. It was a small flat, a couple of bedrooms. Very well organized and homely. He appreciated the thought but there was something about the idea of staying at her flat that put him off. A sort of pang that hit him clear in the chest and it made him grimace, almost feel a bit tearful. Guilt? The thought of leaving the flat… it felt almost as if he were betraying Sherlock. John gave Molly a smile and shook his head once. He was about to speak before they broke away to lean back as the waitress placed their food in front of them.

The two chatted and had a good time as they ate their breakfast and watched people come and go. Time passed quickly as Molly was interrupted midsentence by the beeping of her watch. "Oh… It seems my free time is gone. I have to get back now, but I had a great time!" She chirped, flashing a bright smile. The two stood, John giving her a quick kiss before she scurried off out the door. John sat down and lingered around a bit longer, ordering another coffee as he thought to himself.

He was sure that it was him. The curly mop upon the man's head was a dead giveaway. His skin was oddly pale and there was no mistaking the smirk he gave when he did that thing with his collar on his coat. But how was it possible? John clear as day saw Sherlock hit the pavement. He even tested his pulse for Christ's sake! His eyes stung a bit, but he blinked back the emotions that threatened to spill.

_Why couldn't Sherlock just come home…_

xoxoxox

Sherlock found himself walking along Baker Street taking in all the new things that seemed to spring up while he was gone all that time. He hated having to spend so much time around London as it meant hiding until the time was right. Sherlock knew what he was about to do was beyond stupid – which he had been avoiding being for the longest of time – but he had to do it anyway.

Sherlock took a long stride up the steps of 221B and took a moment to collect his self before he knocked on the door respectively. There was a momentary stillness before a voice came calling down the hall, "John Watson, if you forget your keys one more time I'm going to have to tie them around your ne-" she abruptly stopped when she opened the door and took a good look at who was standing there.

Sherlock shifted a bit, a smile plastered on his face as he swayed from side to side. "Hello Mrs. Hudson." his baritone voice rung. It was something she did not expect to ever see, but Mrs. Hudson took a moment to soak it in before she gave him a smile and ushered him into the hallway.

"Oh Sherlock… How have you been, love? I'm so glad you're alive. John has been struggling without you." She chattered, setting down a cup of tea for him as they sat at her kitchen table. "That nice Molly girl has been around a lot lately, you know. Keeping his mind off of the small things. Poor thing has barely gotten any sleep the past few years."

Sherlock nodded. "That's why I've come to you Mrs. Hudson. I can't reveal myself to him just yet, he is not ready, but I'm going to need your help a tad bit. Just loosening him up a bit so I can ease my way back into his life without him freaking out." He sighed. "He's not like us, Mrs. Hudson. So fragile and easy to break. It's hard to see, but I'm willing to take a shot at it. For his sake."

Mrs. Hudson took a sip of the tea then placed her fingers on Sherlock's palm. "It's alright Sherlock. I understand. You want to get rid of that Molly girl, don't you?" Sherlock gave her a bit of a surprised look. One that said, 'Whatever do you mean?' in a sort of confused and cunning way. She laughed a bit. "I'll do my best for you Sherlock. I promise you that."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I got this finished rather sooner than I expected. I'll be sure to start something about the next chapter soon. I rather didn't like this chapter in the beginning, but it got interesting to me towards the end so I put a bit more in than I'm used to writing. Yay! Well, here it is. Chapter 4.

John tapped his fingers rhythmically against the mahogany table as he stared at Mycroft with an icy glare. Mycroft sat prim and proper as he gave a small smile. He was encouraging John to eat the treats he had laid out for the meeting, but John was smarter than that. He wasn't going to give in. Not to Mycroft bloody Holmes.

"It is wonderful to see you John." Mycroft uttered rather cheerily, but John's intent expression did not falter. He simply sighed and changed his angle. "I'm sure there is something you want to ask me. I can see it all over your face and after all, you haven't spoken to me since Sherlock." He dared not say anything of the situation in front of the army-doctor. Wouldn't like to cause a scene and end up with one of them hurt.

"You took it." John simply stated. Mycroft tilted his head, sipping his tea. "Oh don't give me that confused puppy look. You know exactly of what I'm talking about, Mycroft." Once again, Mycroft failed to comply and simply leaned his head forward onto fingers that were weaved together.

"Whatever do you mean, Doctor Watson?" That bloody formal tone of his. John knew it well. He simply wanted the army-doctor to elaborate on his point. John refused to speak, only irritating the man before he huffed in defeat. "Spoil the fun, why don't you?" Mycroft muttered between his teeth. "You're talking of the violin, I assume."

"Of course I'm talking about the violin! You took it without permission!" John was nearly shouting, but not much so. Mycroft leaned back into the chair.

"I did not require permission. It was my brother's violin. I have my rights." He barked.

"Not when the will clearly states that it was **mine.**" The final word was laced with venom. Even Mycroft couldn't help but flinch a bit at the sound. The man may have been angry with him before, but never that much so. Mycroft never really thought John could be that angry.

Sighing, the man pulled out his blackberry before silently typing in something that John most definitely couldn't make out. As he placed it down on the table, he brought down his arms and licked his lips – now – habitually. He had begun doing that since the whole faked suicide. "Anthea will bring it to you before you leave."

"And that's to happen now." John stood from his seat. It slid across the wood floor with a silence breaking screech before grabbing his cane from the table. Mycroft didn't make a move to look up at him. It was sort of painful for him to see John while Sherlock couldn't and he knew how much that was tearing Sherlock apart. "Have a nice day Mycroft." John called, rounding the corner swiftly before slamming the door shut. It was a grueling 5 minutes before the sound of the limo has disappeared.

"I know you're there, Sherlock." Mycroft muttered, placing his head in his hands. Sherlock slipped out from the shadows. He was leaning against the door, listening in on the conversation and stealing glimpses of John whenever possible. Sherlock walked over to the window and leaned against the window sill, watching the car fade away in the distance.

"You look like a lost puppy, Sherlock. It's really not befitting of you." Sherlock hissed before lifting himself from the uncomfortable position and paced. "You're done Sherlock. You've accomplished your goal. Can you please just do something about him? I won't be your medium for much longer."

"But it isn't that simple Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted. "John is so confusing. Who knows what he would do if I simply walked up to him in the middle of the road and asked him, 'Hey, let's go back to 221B and continue on. I'm sure Lestrade has plenty of cases to attend to!' no, John has a different mindset. Knowing him, he would do something drastic to prove that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Like jump in front of a bus or something! I don't know!" he plopped down onto a chair in frustration. "I'll need everyone's help in this."

xoxoxox

_He tried to take your violin today. I wouldn't let him. –JW_

xoxoxox

John stared at the phone momentarily before shoving it back in his pocket and placing the violin case neatly where it belonged. It felt as though a piece of Sherlock was gained, something that made the area feel more warm and cozy. Without it, the room was cold and empty… As if slowly Sherlock was slipping from his grasp. He wanted to hold onto that memory.

A knock on his door signaled that Mrs. Hudson was waiting to talk to him. It was probably about the mail that he failed to get himself. Limping over towards the door, he gently swung it open to see the usually chipper old landlady with a thin line on her face. He was rather struck at the look as it wasn't normal for her, but she pushed her way into the flat. "John, I'd like to speak to you." Something in his stomach dropped and he felt a shiver down his spine. "I want to speak to you about your girlfriend." And instantly the feeling disappeared. He didn't understand why, but he went with it anyway.

"What about her?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. What would Mrs. Hudson want with his girlfriend? She's only ever met Molly once or twice. The Christmas party and a few other times when John brought her back to the flat, otherwise John had no recollection where she had any interaction with Molly. Did _he _do something wrong? Maybe Mrs. Hudson simply worried for her?

"John, dear, there's something off about her." She nodded, but John simply gave her a confused stare. "You don't see it, do you?" She sighed. "I can understand why. I'd assume that you wouldn't be able to see such a thing. I mean after all, she is your girlfriend. It's never easy for them to see it since they're so attached. Oh dear." As she turned her back to John, she flashed a small smirk. "Good thing you have me, love. I can see it in her eyes. That predatory glance. The same one Sherlock gave you whenever you ran off with him."

John let his gaze fall. He said nothing to the landlady, but gestured for her to take a seat. "Do continue Mrs. Hudson. I'd like to know more of what you're seeing." He muttered, taking a sip of the tea that he had prepared upon returning to the flat. He gave made her a cup as well as she sat down in Sherlock's chair with a rather formal sitting.

"Sherlock used to give you that glance all the time. It was dreadfully obvious. You do know that he talked about you a lot, yes?" Mrs. Hudson pointed towards him with a flick of her index finger.

John shook his head. "Not that I do, ma'am. No one's mentioned it."

"He talked about you quite often. Always asking around to make sure you were alright. Especially when you went out places. He would stare out the window for hours before he realized you weren't within sight." She tsked before taking a sip. "Then during your little dates, when he was sure the time was right, he'd ask for you so he could get your attention."

John furrowed his eyebrows. "Now why would he do that?"

"Because you're the first one to care, of course." Her tone basically screamed the fact that she thought he knew that. "He's only ever gotten negativity from his abilities. You're the first to take an interest. If I were him, I'd want to keep you around as well.

"Dear, even Sherlock's mother doesn't take a keen interest in his abilities. Sure, she loves him very much, but he can often come off as offensive and it's a rather bad first impression. He's never once gotten a response like yours. He was rather giddy for weeks before he finally calmed down. You're a once in a lifetime catch, John. A chance that he's never had the privilege of having until then."

"Then I sure owe Mike another thank you for introducing us. It seems I've made a rather large impact in his life, yeah?" John looked away, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You have no idea." Mrs. Hudson muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch you there?" He shifted in his seat.

"Oh, nothing love. But I would like to warn you, you might want to get rid of Molly now before something bad comes to her. You're a magnet for danger now that you've met Sherlock." John furrowed his brows once more.

"But whatever for?"

"I only worry for her John. If you want to save her now, you need to distance yourself from her while you still can." Mrs. Hudson stood, placing the tea cup on its saucer. "Well, I must be going now. I'm going to visit Mrs. Turner for a bit." She straightened out her skirt and then flashed a smile. "It was wonderful talking to you dear. I do hope you heed my warning though."

"Yes Mrs. Hudson." John drew his words out a bit unsurely, but it passed her as she walked out into the stairway and John closed the door. Now what the hell just happened? John sighed. It seemed that everyone knew something about Sherlock that he didn't and they weren't letting him on indefinitely. He was hoping that at some point in time that maybe he could squeeze the information out of them, but he didn't know who to do so from. He cared about everyone that was doing that weird little 'I know something but I won't tell you' act. It was like they were hiding some bloody marriage proposal.

He had to sit down and think about it though. Mrs. Hudson had told him that something was going to happen to her. Although everything seemed to be connected to Sherlock. What were they hiding?

xoxoxox

Molly treaded carefully down the sidewalk, passing many shops by before hearing her phone beep. She stopped momentarily and took a look at the screen to see that it was a message from an unknown number.

_Don't be alarmed. -?_

Her breath caught in her throat as two cold hands wrapped around her. One at her mouth and one at the eyes. She was pulled into the alley she happened to stop next to and around the corner where an intersection between buildings happened to be. It was a spot that no alleyway could be seen from the road.

"Promise you won't scream." A deep baritone voice muttered into her ear. It was oddly familiar, but she couldn't place it. Molly nodded hesitantly as the hand slowly retracted from her mouth. She knew better than to actually scream. Not with this person's precision.

"I am not going to hurt you, but I ask of you to please hold out your hand." The man instructed. She brought her hand up from her purse strap, uncurling her fingers. Something small and light was placed onto her palm and the man forced her hand shut gently. It was a letter.

"You have one task to complete. Deliver this letter to John Watson. Do not tell him how you received it. On top of this letter is a number. I would like you to save it labeled at 'Service' as I will message you the next time I will have you deliver a message to him. Speak nothing of this occurrence and how you acquired the letter. If he asks, tell him that you received it in your mail with detailed instructions. Do you understand?" Molly whimpered.

"Y-Yes sir. Can I please go now?" She asked. Her voice was lined with the sound of near crying. Instead, the man turned her around.

"Close your eyes and place your palms tightly against them. Count to ten, then proceed with your usual day." She did as she was told, the man slipping his hand from her. He seemed to trust her enough to not look, not that she would. She was too afraid that he would shoot her or something if she did. Instead, she heard the sound of running footsteps slowly disappear around the corner as she counted to ten. Upon taking a look around, the man was nowhere to be found.

Molly looked down at the letter. It was a vanilla cream colored envelope with a red seal. The addressing on the front was tidy and free of flaws. Written in a blue fountain pen with almost unreadable cursive that was sloppy yet extremely neat. There were no creases or markings on the letter. Mint condition. Whoever it was that wanted her to deliver this letter took great strain in keeping it safe. Molly tucked it neatly into a file that was in her purse as she looked at the second piece of paper. The number.

Quickly she entered it into her phone and saved it. Now all she had to do was deliver the letter without suspicion.


	5. Update

Update

So sorry guys! I haven't forgotten about you all, but I'm simply a week away from summer and until then, I'm a tad bit swamped with final projects and such.

I'll be sure to update as soon as I can. ;D Promise3

-Coffee


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